


feet first, don't fall

by bellamythology (onemanbellarmy)



Series: the realist adjusts the sails [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Sailing, basically just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/bellamythology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for ohmystydia: “Where Clarke is travelling with her mother on her massive, expensive yacht and she doesn’t want to be there and Bellamy is a member of the crew that works there. At first they may not get on or something and then do, but go on however you feel :)”</p>
            </blockquote>





	feet first, don't fall

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any awkwardness, I'm currently experimenting with voice and style, as well as rediscovering the dynamic of these two. 
> 
> Also, any/all knowledge I have in regards to sailing comes from fiction and a cruise I went on that one time. 
> 
> Title from Halsey.

The sun was shining on the waves lapping at the sides of the yacht as gulls circled overhead; the deck was pleasantly warm and buzzed with conversation from the select few who had been invited along. It was all very bright and cheerful, and the thought made Clarke scowl.

“I know you said your mother doesn’t spend much time with you, but surely she’s warned you at some point that your face will freeze like that if you keep making that expression.”

She didn’t bother turning from the railing; she knew that voice all too well. “Don’t you have more important things to do than bother me?”

“Considering we’re out in open waters and actually overstaffed for once, I don’t.” Bellamy’s grin never wavered as she turned around to redirect her scowl at him. “Blame your mother for hiring so many overeager college students.”

With a sigh, Clarke dangled an arm over the side of the boat, trailing her fingers in the water. “Seriously, there’s got to be more exciting things to see and do.”

“More exciting than you?” A pause. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

Instinctively Clarke ducked her head to hide her smile. Since her back was already to him, the movement was probably more telling than if she had just stayed still. “What do you want, Bellamy?”

“Just enjoying the sunshine,” he said, in that _we both know I’m spouting bullshit but we also both know that calling me out would seem like you cared too much_ tone that Clarke hated so much. (Really, it was awful that as numerous as Bellamy’s words were, they conveyed even more meaning in what went unspoken.) “Hiding from your mom?”

“In plain sight,” Clarke confirmed. “That way when she asks where I’ve been, I can truthfully say that I’ve been standing right here and she just didn’t notice. Her awful benefits and parties and dinners are penance enough for seizing what free time I can; I don’t see the point in purposefully subjecting myself to her peers.”

“Speak of the devil” was Bellamy’s only comment as a pair of guests caught sight of them and approached, politely interested smiles already affixed to their faces.

Beside him, Clarke straightened and put on a similar expression. “Ms. Azgeda, Roan, it’s great to see you.”

“Clarke,” the woman said, “I’ve told you a million times, call me Nia.”

Standing slightly behind her, Roan shook his head slightly, eyes widening comically.

Clarke choked down a snicker. “Have you met Bellamy? Bellamy Blake, Nia Azgeda and her son Roan.”

Uncomfortable in a way that Clarke couldn’t remember ever seeing him, Bellamy made a polite excuse and fled — politely, of course. Captain Kane hadn’t spent all that time teaching him etiquette for nothing.

 

“You’re in my sun,” Clarke warned as a shadow fell across her page. When the person didn’t move, she looked up to find Bellamy regarding her curiously. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. What’cha reading?”

“ _American Gods._ It used to be a favorite of mine, and when I heard that they were making a TV show, well … I definitely had to reread it.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to find my copy. What’s your favorite part?”

She considered briefly. “Have you ever heard that someone’s reading preferences say a lot about who they really are, like their inner self or whatever?”

“Why do you think I asked?” He smirked.

Shaking her head, Clarke raised her book again — this time to hide her smile.

 

“Fancy meeting you here, princess.”

“What are you doing here?” Clarke just managed not to jump at the sound of his voice, sliding one hand behind her back as casually as possible.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I work here. That famous Griffin memory starting to fail you?”

“It was mind-reading, actually, and you know it was rigged.” She made a face at the reminder of her childhood party trick, one that her mother had all too happily trotted out as a _look how adorable my daughter is_ icebreaker.

“I do.” Bellamy smirked. “My sister knew that trick, too — showed it off every chance she got. Delighted all her theater campmates.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah, she’s about your age. Octavia.”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh, even as she slotted this newly discovered piece of the Bellamy Blake jigsaw into place. “Did you have a hand in naming her, by any chance?”

His grin turned just a bit sheepish. “That obvious?”

“I’ve known you for years,” she pointed out, and he ruffled her hair in fond response.

 

“How’s the view?” Bellamy asked without turning his head.

It took Clarke a few seconds to realize that she’d been caught staring. “Huh?”

Smirking, he paused long enough to gesture at his bare chest.

“Why would I need to admire you when you do it so well yourself?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” He laughed, ducking his head so that the sunlight glinted off his curls.

(No, Clarke’s heart absolutely did not catch at the sight. She was just — admiring him. Aesthetically. She shook her head slightly, incredulously. Apparently she couldn’t even convince herself anymore.)

Before she could talk herself out of it, Clarke crossed the deck to stand before him. Despite the inches still separating them, she had a feeling that this was the closest they’d ever been, metaphorically speaking.

His eyes had gone serious. “What are you doing, Clarke?”

Not _princess_ — and yet, oddly, she rather found herself missing the nickname. “Admiring you?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but she found herself doing a lot of things she _hadn’t meant to_ when she was around him. “I don’t know. I should probably —”

Bellamy cocked his head slightly, curious, waiting.

“Never mind.” Clarke turned to go, only to be halted when he caught her by the wrist.

“What brought this on, princess?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, bitingly sarcastic. “I don’t seem to know anything, anymore, when it comes to you.”

Hesitatingly he lifted a hand to the nape of her neck, feeling her shoulder blades shift under his touch. “Are you —?”

“I might be.” She buried her face against his shoulder, not-so-secretly enjoying the way he stroked her hair. “If I said yes, would you —?”

He kissed the top of her head. As much as she wanted to see the expression on his face, she didn’t quite dare to move until he murmured, “You only ever had to ask, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com)! Also, you should totally check out the [Bellarke Fanfictions blog](http://bellarkefanfictions.tumblr.com) ;)


End file.
